


something completely new

by Snakeswithoutmiddlenames



Series: if there were any more left of me, I'd give it to you [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Other, a few other characters are mentioned but this aint about them, it/its pronouns for michael, this is MY emotional support gerrymichael fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23062324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snakeswithoutmiddlenames/pseuds/Snakeswithoutmiddlenames
Summary: Michael comes back from Sannikov land, and Gerry knows exactly what his coworker looks like. this thing with too many bones in its hands is Not Michael Shelley, but its Not Not-Michael.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Series: if there were any more left of me, I'd give it to you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674901
Comments: 4
Kudos: 145





	something completely new

**Author's Note:**

> this is MY emotional support Gerry/Michael fic bc im big gay and very dumbass. anyways this is set after the whole "Michael gets sacrificed into the spiral and gets Fucked Up" thing. ngl. might end up writing more bc i feel like i could and should. but i feel lowkey crunched on creative juices and need time to recharge BUT LIKE.

Michael Shelley had light freckles over his nose. His blonde hair was shoulder length, and although slightly wavy, never had a hope of holding curls. He had been tall, thin, and never seemed to know how to hold his hands. He hunched down to get closer to being face to face with everyone else, and he had a pretty smile with a dimple and slightly crooked teeth.

So Gerry was sure beyond a shadow of doubt that what was standing in front of him Wasn't Michael Shelley.

“Your hair is too long.” he blurts out, posture nervous. The thing Laughs, and it Sounds like his coworkers grating, awful, and somewhat endearing laugh. But it wasn't, not quite. 

“All of the things you could choose to comment on and it’s the length of my hair? My my, you are either the smartest or dullest person I've interacted with.'' Its smile is unsettlingly big, one that would split open any normal person's face. It doesn't have a dimple.

Gerry just stares at it, watching how it's curls seem to twist and move independent of itself. So he doesn't really notice how it's suddenly very close until one of its Huge Awful Hands is touching his face. He jerks away and snarls, and watches as the thing that's not his coworker simply beams at him, tracing over the eye tattoos on his jaw.

“I could call you on so many things you got wrong, Notthem.” the phrase is hissed like an accusation, and Michael lurches away and doubles over in laughter. “Awww, so cute that you think The Stranger would want me! No… no I'm not the Notthem, sorry” it shrugs almost comically, still making that head splitting laughter. “Although that would be easier for you, wouldn't it. If I was murdered and replaced by something stealing my face. No… I'm something new altogether!” 

Gerry just stares. Notthem never gets Anything right when they steal people, and this Michael may have all the bones in its hands but its hair is still straw blonde, it's still tall and thin and has a slouch that couldn't be good for its back And he sighs, something soft and sad.

“Michael Shelley is dead. He got hypothermia in Sannikov land, and-” its laughter jars him out of the statement. “Is that what she told you? Not that she handed me a map and shoved me into the hallways? Not that I wandered for weeks, trying to find something, Anything, not how I couldn't leave and how the spiral… well. If you stay in there too long it rearranges you into something new!” its grinning in a face splitting way, which Gerry would've seen as a threat if not for the fact that tears streamed from its eyes. 

It stands at a distance like a wounded animal, and, as best as Gerry can tell, it might be more animal than human. But it twists its hands, staring at him, twisting and touching those awful hands in the same way Shelley had.

He wonders if this new thing would hold hands the same way Shelley had, too restless and jittery. 

He shoves himself off the desk and walks over, gently trying to brush its tears away. Michael's face feels like static, loud and tingling and it makes Gerry's hand feel numb and wrong, but he doesn't pull his hand away. He just gently leaves his hand there. It leans into his touch, almost purring despite the tears. Time doesn't really have meaning in that moment, standing there gently holding the thing that used to be his coworker, used to be his Kind Of But Not Really boyfriend. Gerry almost doesn't notice when it moves to hold him back, cradling him in its too large hands. He's not ashamed to say he fell asleep like that, leaning against Michael, content to let himself be held, to trail his fingers through the impossibly curled hair and feel its fingers trace over the tattoos that litter his joints.

He wakes back up in the archives, at the small desk in the office that he rarely uses. There's a blanket draped over him, covered in fractals. Something hazy in his mind supplies the term “Mandelbrot” and he lets his fingers trace over the pattern, smiling lazily. There's a cup of coffee on his desk in a mug that was once Michael's, but now isn't, and he smiles at that too. Whatever the deal was with this new thing, odds are it still cared for him the same as he cared for it. 

He takes the cup and sips gently at it. Gerry can't stop the thought that he’d really like to see it again. He didn't get to see how it held hands after all.


End file.
